


Always a Pleasure

by hpdm4ever, MessiFangirl (hpdm4ever)



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Argentina National Team, Atlético Madrid, FC Barcelona, FIFA World Cup 2018, La Liga, Locker Room, M/M, Old fic now posted for Quarantine 2020, Pairing Nobody Asked For, Rare Pairings, Showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:26:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23546863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/pseuds/hpdm4ever, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/pseuds/MessiFangirl
Summary: “I don’t want to interrupt you,” Simeone says, knocking slightly, though he still enters the shower area without waiting to be invited. He smiles pleasantly as Leo turns looks over his shoulder in surprise and moves to turn off the water. The room is fogging up with the steam, the glass cubicles more for the aesthetic than actual privacy, but it’s not like Simeone’s never seen a dick before.Someone might say something about Simeone walking in like he owns the place, but despite the new location, it’s still his stadium and he’s never been shy about going anywhere he wants to.
Relationships: Diego Simeone/Lionel Messi, implied Lionel Messi/Sergio Agüero
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	Always a Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [Always a Pleasure](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24913237) by [frui](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frui/pseuds/frui)



> Day 8 of my Quarantine 2020 fic fest unearths this unexpected drabble.
> 
> This is from October 2017, with Barcelona playing at Atléti's new stadium for the first time. On October 14, the game ended 1-1 with goals from Luis Suárez and Saúl Ñíguez.
> 
> Also, Argentina had just qualified for the 2018 World Cup in third place on October 10, where Messi scored a hat-trick to help Argentina win 3-1 over Ecuador.
> 
> I say this as if it is any excuse for me being inspired to write this. What can I really say, Diego Simeone is a force of nature and yeah that's attractive sometimes!! Plus, if you know me at all by now, you know I can ship Leo with anyone. Trust me, this is not a game I like to play with myself... I have considered some truly terrible pairings and am terrified that I can make a few work.
> 
> But! I kinda dig this pairing. Even though this is only a short window into what could be.

“I don’t want to interrupt you,” Simeone says, knocking slightly, though he still enters the shower area without waiting to be invited. He smiles pleasantly as Leo turns looks over his shoulder in surprise and moves to turn off the water. The room is fogging up with the steam, the glass cubicles more for the aesthetic than actual privacy, but it’s not like Simeone’s never seen a dick before.

Someone might say something about Simeone walking in like he owns the place, but despite the new location, it’s still his stadium and he’s never been shy about going anywhere he wants to.

“It’s fine,” Leo replies reassuringly anyway, rubbing his hands over his face quickly. There’s a bit of soap still glistening on his shoulder and he looks like he might not have been finished his routine. But he smiles as he reaches for his towel on the nearby hook, not seeming overly uncomfortable to have someone walk in on him. “Missed you in the tunnel.”

“I know. And I’m on my way out now—just I didn’t want to leave without saying hello first. Away from the press and all that. Of course, they’re going to ask me about you later, I’m sure,” Simeone explains while Leo secures the towel around his waist. “They got the hot water working here, I hope?” he asks when Leo shivers. “Not sure we’ve got all the kinks worked out yet.”

Leo smiles, dripping all over the place, but isn’t bothered as he puts his hand out to shake. He probably wouldn't tell Simeone even if there was something wrong. “They did,” he assures. “Stadium’s nice. Locker room too. No complaints from me about that. The game, though? Well, it wasn’t quite the result either of us hoped for, I know,” Leo says, as Simeone clasps his hand, “but we both had our chances.”

“It’s always a pleasure, Leo. Always a challenge to try to figure you out,” Simeone says earnestly, letting go and then shaking his head. “Can’t quite manage to do it all the time. And we were lucky today—that’s one thing I’m sure of. The missed penalty, and then the woodwork… You’re right that we had our chances, as well—it was close, very close. But you’re too good for me, I know that and you know that, but I’m going to keep trying.” He looks serious for a moment, like he’s trying to figure Leo out right that second.

Leo ducks his head, running a hand through his hair, fingers catching a tangle or two. It’s soaked from the shower still, and he flicks his hand into the air dismissively. “It’s the team, Cholo, you know that.” He shrugs. “Wasn’t my night, though.”

Simeone rubs his jaw and shakes his head. “You don’t have to play around, Leo. I know enough about teams to recognize talent when it’s right in front of me. Just take the compliment, eh?” he says brusquely. “There’s nobody around to hear me say it, and even if there were, I’d still say the same thing. You’re the best in the world. I can’t tell you that enough. The best at Barcelona, and the best at Argentina.” There’s a sparkle in his eyes when he says that, a little heat in his tone. “I don’t care what anybody else says, either.”

Leo’s smile slips a little. “How is Carlos, by the way?” he asks, and though he sounds perfectly civil, Simeone knows he’s not.

“You’re not still sore about that, are you?” Simeone asks. “It didn’t go over well in our household, I can tell you that. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. We’re not blind. We know the truth. We all know you carried Argentina. Anyone with half a brain can see that, and if Carlos can’t then he shouldn’t be anywhere near football.”

Leo leans back against the tiles. “It’s fine. He can say what he wants,” he says, as if slightly relieved that Simeone doesn’t agree. “As for qualifying, I don’t know that it’ll be enough,” he murmurs, looking tired all of a sudden. “It’s all still a mess, isn’t it. Can’t quite seem to get it right.”

Simeone takes a step forward, putting a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “It’s enough for now,” he says hotly. “It’s enough that we finished third, that we don’t have to go to the playoffs… Fuck, it’s enough that we even qualified. You hear me?” His other hand goes to Leo’s neck, thumb grazing this chin. “And it’s all because of you, Leo. All of it.”

Leo doesn’t know what to say to that and it must show, but Simeone isn’t finished. His other hand has moved up Leo’s neck, until he’s cupping Leo’s face.

“How many times must I say it?” Simeone asks, lowering his voice now. “How long until you understand?” He licks his lips. “You deserve everything, for what you’ve done. Don’t you know that?” He’s flush against Leo’s body now, ignoring the fact that he’s fully dressed in his suit while Leo’s simply in a towel.

Leo shifts against him, one hand holding the towel at his waist and the other flat against Simeone’s chest. “Cholo,” he whispers, lips parted in confusion.

Simeone can feel the heat of Leo’s body through his clothing, feel the way the damp skin is pressed against him. “Someone should show you,” Simeone murmurs. “Reward you,” he says, fingers brushing over Leo’s beard. “Give you everything you deserve.” They've never been this close, not really, but there's something about seeing Leo today that is making his blood burn.

And then he pushes his knee between Leo’s thighs.

Leo’s hand doesn’t move from Simeone’s chest, but his nails dig into the fabric of Simeone’s jacket. “Cholo,” he says again, nostrils flaring. 

He doesn't say no.

“How did they reward you after Ecuador?” Simeone mutters, moving his knee ever so slightly upwards, feeling Leo’s towel move with it. There’s still water trickling down from Leo’s hairline and Simeone wants to follow it with his lips. Instead his thumb moves to Leo’s mouth, grazing just under Leo’s bottom lip. “Kun wasn’t there, was he,” he murmurs, as if to himself. “He would have done it.”

“Kun?” Leo asks, gasping as Simeone’s thumb moves up to dip inside his mouth. 

It’s just there for a moment, and Simeone drags it out slowly, bringing it to his own mouth to suck. "Who would have thought you'd taste this sweet?"

**Author's Note:**

> (Simeone's brother-in-law Carlos Dibos was a trainer for Argentina's national team back in 2006-08 and made comments to the press in 2016 that "Messi picked managers and players and did whatever he wanted with the national team." He went on to say "We're sick of his behavior in Argentina." He also said things like Messi isn't a leader and Neymar is better etc... Very clearly not a Messi fan haha, but it's why Carlos is mentioned in the fic.)


End file.
